


high school yearbook

by halomoji



Category: Love and Producer (video game), MLQC (Video Game), MLQC - Fandom, Mr. Love: Queen's Choice (Video Game), love and producer, 恋与制作人 | Liàn Yǔ Zhì Zuò Rén | Mr. Love: Queen's Choice (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Second person POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22485736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halomoji/pseuds/halomoji
Summary: a series that follows mc and gavin through their time together in high school (aka i screw around with the "canon" timeline and do what i want while keeping the major plot beats more or less the same)
Relationships: Bái Qǐ | Gavin & Player Character, Bái Qǐ | Gavin & You, Bái Qǐ | Gavin/Player Character, Bái Qǐ | Gavin/You, Gavin x MC, Gavin/MC
Comments: 14
Kudos: 75





	1. the rain

**Author's Note:**

> The first time you meet Gavin, you don't know his name.

You stand uncertainly outside of the high school, watching the rain come down in sheets beyond the safety of the overhanging roof. Umbrella-less because the forecast that morning had called for a sunny afternoon, you can only stare dejectedly into the rain from your spot on the very edge of the eaves. 

The rain bouncing off the pavement spatters onto your shoes, but you pay it no mind, completely lost in your own thoughts. Until...

“ _Mrow?”_

With a little gasp of surprise, you turn to see a black and white cat at your feet. It looks to be a stray, if the scars on its muzzle and its too-thin frame are anything to go by, and your eyes prickle. Crouching, you offer a hand to the cat. It bumps its head into your hand immediately, purring like a little engine at the contact. 

“You poor thing,” you murmur sympathetically. “You’re all wet. You don’t have anywhere to stay?”

The cat meows plaintively at you.

“Here.” From the front pocket of your skirt you produce a white handkerchief with your initials painstakingly embroidered on it. “Will this help?”

Coincidence or no, the cat lies down obediently, watching you with bright eyes as you gently drape the handkerchief over it like a blanket. The purring gets louder.

You smile, straightening back up and dusting off your skirt. “We’ll wait together, okay?”

Nearly ten minutes pass without any sign of the rain letting up, but with a new friend waiting by your side, you find yourself humming quite happily as you practice various ballet moves you remember from your old lessons. 

It’s on your third pirouette that you notice the boy watching you from a little ways away. You stop in your tracks, feeling a blush creep up the back of your neck, but you smile at him anyway. Shyly, but friendly nonetheless.

Neither of you say anything for what feels like minutes. When you do finally open your mouth to speak, a cold wind brushes by to ruffle your hair. Shivering, you cross your arms tightly across your chest. “It sure is cold today, huh?”

He ignores your question. “What are you waiting for?” The boy’s voice is a bit rough around the edges, words coming out reluctantly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Oh, I...I’m waiting for the rain to slow down. I need to get to the bus stop down the road and I don’t have an umbrella…” you respond, growing quieter near the end when he turns his amber eyes to look at you. He has very pretty eyes that seem to see all the way through you. Like they’re looking at your heart instead of your body. It somehow makes you feel more vulnerable than when he was watching you spin in circles.

The boy tilts his head, frown deepening. Then he looks at the rain, a deluge in the making, and seems to come to a decision as he walks over to you and shrugs off his jacket, holding it up over your head like a makeshift umbrella. “Here.”

You take a tiny step away in alarm, hands held up in front of you. “You don’t have to do that, I can wait--”

He fixes you with those eyes again, clear and determined, and your voice catches in your throat. “Let’s go. It’s not far.”

As if giving permission, the cat behind them meows.

You glance from the cat, to the rain, then back to the boy and clutch the strap of you messenger bag. A slow smile spreads across your face. You nod decisively. “Okay.”

He moves towards you again and this time you crowd close, your small frame fitting like a missing puzzle piece against him. No boy has ever stood this close to you (excluding Minor, who you’ve known since you were children and therefore doesn’t count). It brings heat back into your cheeks, but you don’t have time to think too deeply about it before the boy is counting down.

“Three...two...one...go!”

In perfect sync, you and the boy sprint into the pouring rain.


	2. the piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second time you meet Gavin, you unknowingly change his life.

The first week of sophomore year frightens you.

You've been away all summer at a music camp you'd begged your father to send you to. Naturally, you're still able to finish all of your required summer schoolwork, but your lengthy absence is leading to certain...difficulties in your social life. 

While you are learning the intricacies of playing the piano, Minor is expanding his social circle. In his frequent letters to you, he mentions finally being able to start taking hormone blockers and how he completely revamped his wardrobe. The makeover apparently sends his self-confidence through the roof because it seems like every other photo he posts on Moments is with a different kid from school, some of which you have never seen before.

It makes you happy, but also a little sad. You've known Minor for years. You've been wallflowers together for your entire friendship. A part of you worries he’ll forget about you when the new school year starts, and you carry that worry with you throughout the last week of camp like a thundercloud above your head. 

When you finally return home to Loveland, you nearly cry on the spot when you see Minor jumping for joy on your doorstep, shouting your name as the car pulls into the driveway. He’s dyed his hair an iridescent pearly color, there’s a dark purple stud in his right ear, and his normal too-big hoodie and dark jeans have been traded out for a lilac-colored cardigan, a tank so low you can see the top of his binder peeking out, and light acid wash jeans. 

You don't have time to process how his new look makes you feel before he’s on you, pulling you into what might be the tightest hug you've ever experienced. You  _ do _ cry then, burying your face in his shoulder and soaking a patch of his cardigan as he pats your back comfortingly and jokes about how handsome he must be now to make you cry just from one look. He looks different, but he’s still  _ Minor _ . You feel silly for thinking he’d be anything but himself.

School starts back three days after your return. You find out within the first week that Minor is surprisingly adept at navigating his friend groups; he offers to introduce everyone, but you and a few others from your circle are too intimidated by the ripped jeans and dyed hair and juuls to take that leap just yet. So Minor alternates days between groups, and mostly everyone is happy. You certainly are.

On one of the days Minor isn’t around for lunch, you obtain special permission to go to the music room instead of the cafeteria. Your fingers itch to play the piano, have been since you left camp, but you don't have a piano at home. The school’s music room, however, has a sleek black grand piano that you fell in love with the second you laid eyes on it on the first day of school. 

Setting your bag against the legs of the piano, you gingerly presses a key, then three more. Delighted that the piano seems to be perfectly in tune, you settle onto the cushioned bench and straighten your posture. A breeze from the open window ruffles the sheet music open on the rack. It’s for a song called Jasmine Flowers, but you swiftly replace it with an untitled sheet from your backpack. Out of all the songs they played at camp, this is your favorite as well as being the one you're best at playing.

Your fingers hover over the keys for a beat of hesitation before you start, slowly and meticulously until you hit her stride. Then you play like you've never been away from a piano, fingers dancing gracefully along the keyboard. The melody is sweet and clear, a little slow in the beginning, and comfortably familiar. Your eyes close, humming softly, trying not to think too hard about the upcoming lyrics lest you stumble over the words.  The tempo picks up as the song transitions smoothly into the chorus. The words come out quietly in the onset until something inexplicable surges into your heart, something so  _ warm _ , giving you the confidence to sing with your entire chest. 

The wind stirs forcefully outside, drawing eyes the color of honey to the window in time to see an array of golden ginkgo leaves paint the afternoon sky. Had you been a little quicker, perhaps you would have caught a glimpse of the battered boy who had been watching you, transfixed, a well of emotion in his glassy amber eyes. Ignorant but blissful, the leaves swirling in the autumn air gives you another burst of energy that you put towards playing even more emphatically, swaying rhythmically with the music.

By the time your song comes to a close, the busy winds have calmed as well, leaving nothing but a few stray ginkgo leaves on the windowsill in its wake. You gaze out the window from your spot on the bench, hands folded in your lap, with a peaceful smile on your face. You feel rejuvenated in a way you didn't know you needed.

Pulled from your reverie by someone suddenly calling your name from the doorway, you hurriedly gather your things and go to join them. You giggle at something they say as you leave the room, neither of you noticing the boy who peeks back into the room to steal one last look at the girl who had unintentionally saved him.

From that day on, Gavin vows to protect you the way you had protected him.


	3. the alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third time you meet Gavin, you don't stick around.

With midterms just around the corner, the library has become your best friend. 

Your friends have fruitlessly tried to tell you that you're more than prepared, promising that  sophomore midterms aren’t as hard as the teachers are making them out to be. But you have a promise to keep, both to yourself and to our dad, so you stay afterschool at least three times a week in the month leading up to exams to study in the library. 

Your first exam is tomorrow, so you've been especially dedicated this week. You've lost count of how many hours you've spent hunched over a table, textbooks strewn around you, scribbling away in a notebook. However long it’s been, it’s almost certainly more hours than you've spent sleeping recently. You're halfway through a study guide for Government when the words begin to blur together on the page. The next thing you know, you're being gently shaken awake by the librarian.

Concerned, the elderly woman asks, “Dear, are you alright?”

You take off your glasses to rub your eyes drowsily, wondering what time it is. “Yes, Miss Ruthie, I’m...okay, I think. Just a little sleepy.”

“Perhaps you should call it a night?” 

Despite the softness in her voice, you know it’s not a suggestion. So, you nod obediently and begin gathering your things together.

The city is bathed in yellows and oranges when you exits the school, suppressing another yawn. A warm breeze, unusual for December, rustles the few remaining leaves on the trees as you lazily wander over to retrieve your bike from the rack. Pastel pink with a little basket interwoven with fake flowers, it’s been your preferred method of travel since starting the school year. You fiddle with the lock, climb on, and head for home.

You're humming softly to yourself, fingers tapping the imaginary piano keys on the handlebars, when a hushed conversation interrupts your thoughts. Your pedaling slows. The voices seem to be coming from the alley next to Lynn’s Kitchen. 

_ Curiosity killed the cat _ , the angel on your shoulder chides. 

_ But satisfaction brought it back _ , the devil on the other side replies.

After several seconds of hesitation, you side with the devil because you can't help your inquisitive nature. You coast to a stop at the corner of the restaurant, leaning over the handlebars to peer into the alley. 

There’s a man you recognize as the owner handing a wad of money to a boy with shaggy brown hair in a school uniform. They seem to be having an argument, though over what you can’t make out over the wind. Your brow furrows; the boy looks familiar…

As you're studying him, wracking your brain for a memory, his gaze connects with yours. Lightning strikes in your mind, filling your veins with electricity, as his name finally surfaces: Gavin.  _ The _ Gavin, the one everyone in your grade whispers conspiracies about with wide eyes, some in fright and some in admiration. The one who always seems to be starting (or ending) fights. 

And now he’s staring at  _ you _ , stone-faced. His eyes narrow in what you perceive to be irritation. The wind picks up, whipping your hair into your eyes and causing your heart to stir with emotions you can’t describe.

You're gone before the owner turns to see who Gavin is staring at.

All the way home, you're plagued with questions. Was he blackmailing Lynn? What did he need the money for? A handful of girls in Literature had mentioned seeing Gavin bullying some kids for their lunch money that morning, was that related? Was he just looking to start trouble, or...was  _ he _ the one in trouble?

Through the confusing thoughts whirling through your head like a rampant tornado, there’s something about the way he looked at you, so bright and intense, that you recognized. Like you'd seen that look before, except...warmer, somehow. You can’t remember where, but thinking about his eyes makes your stomach do somersaults, so you try to push him from your mind.

It isn’t until halfway through the next school day that you realize you're searching for those eyes around every corner.


	4. the introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth time you meet Gavin, you get an official introduction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. been a few months, huh;; hoping to finish this fic out now that i'm fixated on mlqc again!  
> this one is purely self-indulgent, it's not based on any canon events.

“C’mon, you never want to hang out with my friends,” Minor whines.

“Your friends,” you reply, going out of your way to step on a satisfactorily crunchy patch of snow, “are too loud. They make my head hurt.”

It’s the fourth day in a row Minor has pled with you to join his gang of sophomore buddies. He always waits until you're walking home from school so you can’t escape, hoping one day he’ll get you to agree. Obviously, you're more stubborn than he expected.

“You can’t diss all of them just because Tyler said your glasses are kinda stupid.”

“My glasses _aren’t_ stupid!” 

“Well, I know that. So does Quinn.” Minor chuckles at a memory. “You should’ve seen the way they jumped Ty’s ass for making fun of you. Did he ever apologize for that?”

You puff out your cheeks, but nod. The boy had approached you the day after the incident, embarrassed and seemingly genuine in his apology. Naturally, you forgave him; that didn’t mean you were inclined to meet Minor’s friends again anytime soon.

“I don’t think they’re mean, I just don’t think they like me very much.” You fidget with the hem of your sweater while you wait at a crosswalk. “Quinn is the only one who tries to include me in conversations.”

“That’s because they all have the attention span of a cat smelling catnip. It’s nothing against you, I promise.”

You're shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. “I don’t want to go ice skating with them. Not this weekend, at least. Winter break starts in two days and midterms have been really hard, I just want to relax for a few days. Okay?”

Disheartened, Minor makes a show out of sighing dramatically, lolling his head to one side. “Yeah, okay. I get it.” 

You know he’s not truly upset, but you still feel the nagging urge to tack on, “But if you really want, I’ll go with you and _one_ friend to do something this week since we’re out of school.” You pause thoughtfully. “As long as it’s not Tyler.”

Minor side eyes you, one eyebrow raised in mild disbelief. “Really?”

“Really. I have ballet Tuesday afternoon and piano lessons Thursday morning, but any other time is fine, I think. I’ll check with Dad.”

He beams like the sun and eagerly starts suggesting things you can do, and you can’t help but giggle at how easy to please he is.

\---

As promised, you show up to the arcade in New Light Mall at one o’clock to meet Minor and his friend. He wouldn’t tell you who he was bringing no matter how much you asked, claiming it was a surprise but that you wouldn't be disappointed. Which, regardless, makes your flight instinct take effect as you stand awkwardly by the entrance, phone pressed to your ear and waiting for Minor to answer.

He doesn’t answer, but only because he’s already jogging up to you, mauve-colored eyes shining expectantly. 

“You made it!”

You tuck your phone into the pocket of your coat, his presence momentarily settling your nerves. “I said I would, didn’t I?” Your hands follow your phone as you attempt to nonchalantly ask, “ Has your friend shown up yet?”

The smile that graces Minor’s face is borderline wicked. “Yup. He just demolished me at Street Fighter when you called.” He inclines his head, starting to walk off. “C’mon, this way.”

Near the back of the arcade is where your and Minor's favorite cluster of games live, among which are classics like Mario Kart, Pac-Man, and Pokemon Snap. At the Street Fighter machine, with his back to the two of you, stands a tall boy with chestnut hair, hunched slightly over the controls. He doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach, intensely interested in his match, handling the joystick like a professional.

Minor clears his throat loudly. “Hey, bro.”

The other boy doesn’t turn around, only responds with an aggravated “What do you want?” as he taps the brightly colored buttons of the machine.

Your eyes widen a fraction of an inch in recognition. Your insides feel like they’re being twisted into balloon animals.

“Don’t be an ass, dude, there’s a lady present.”

“Minor, I--”

A loud noise of defeat plays from the machine, cutting you off. He turns to face you at the sound of your voice, frighteningly familiar ( _and_ _gorgeous_ , an annoying part of your brain sighs wistfully) eyes locking with yours, and just like two weeks ago when you'd caught his eye across the alley, you're paralyzed. 

Minor’s friend...is _Gavin_?!

Blood rushes to your face so quickly you feel lightheaded, subconsciously taking a half step backwards to balance yourself. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Is this some kind of joke?

After a second, Gavin’s gaze slides from you to Minor. Though his expression is carefully schooled to show disinterest, there’s a bite in his voice that only Minor catches. “This is your friend?”

Smugly, Minor replies, “Uh-huh.” He looks at you, head tilted. “Gonna introduce yourself?”

You give him a sharp look out of the corner of your eye. You distinctly remember having a conversation with Minor about Gavin’s “transaction” in the alleyway, and he definitely never once mentioned being friends with Gavin. Were you not so shocked at the situation you've found herself in, you'd be having quite a few words with Minor.

Still, Minor doesn’t seem fazed by the accusatory and, frankly, _betrayed_ way you're glaring at him. Barely three seconds pass before he’s nudging your shoulder. “Anyone home?”

You resist the urge to swat at him. 

“I’m--”

“I know who you are,” Gavin cuts in.

Unbidden fear fills your veins with ice. Shoulders curving inwards imperceptibly, you shrink into yourself in a subconscious effort to become smaller. A vision of his piercing gaze mixed with the phantom feeling of wild winds tangling your hair makes your heart race.

“...Y-you do?”

“Your name’s MC, right? Minor talks about you often.”

Minor’s self-satisfied smile immediately dissolves into a scowl, though you don’t notice due to the relief flooding through you. He must not realize you were the one he saw across the alley that day. That doesn’t erase all your worries, but it does lessen the knot in your stomach. Whatever trouble he may or not have been in that day, at least you won't get roped into it.

“Yep, that’s me,” you say shortly, afraid to talk too much at the risk of coming off annoying. 

“My partner in crime.” Minor slings an arm over your shoulder. “The peanut butter to my jelly. The second pea in the pod.”

You push him away by a hand on his cheek, rolling your eyes. “The Mario to his Princess Peach, actually.”

“Without,” Minor is quick to add, “any of the lovey stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Gavin says slowly, like he’s taking stock of the situation he’s found himself in. He doesn’t smile when he says, “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

You bow your head briefly. Your earlier relief at not being remembered is now tinged with a sense of disappointment that you can’t understand. “You too.” 

“Anyway,” Minor cuts in, throwing an annoyed look at Gavin for ruining his plan, “The Mario Kart machine added two more bikes, which means we can have a three-way race! You in?” At your hesitance, he sings, “Someone unlocked Shy Guy~” 

Despite your best efforts, a smile still spreads across your face. “Fine. You got me.”

Surprisingly, Gavin doesn’t immediately take the lead when the first race begins. You aren’t the best at this game so you'd expected him to at least be better than you, but he stays sandwiched between you and Minor. Occasionally you're able to pass him, holding onto second place for a little while before he overtakes you again. But he never gets very far ahead of you - unlike Minor, who takes his little Dry Bones and disappears from view before the second lap of any race begins. 

There’s a moment in the second race of the Grand Prix where the automated Bowser on your tail slams you with a red shell and sends you spinning into fifth place. After you grit your teeth and lean forward angrily on your plastic bike to get back into the race, you notice Gavin, or more accurately his racer Link, has somehow ended up behind you. You spare him a glance that he does not return, then focus on the game again. Still, you're aware of how he stays one position behind you for the rest of the race.

Minor notices it too because at the end of the race (where he once again comes in first and you and Gavin come in at second and third respectively), he sits up and frowns at Gavin. “What the hell, bro? Stop coddling her, she knows how to play.”

You keep your mouth shut, elbows propped on the handlebars as you watch the boys. Was that what Gavin was doing in the last race? He’d barely said two words to you since you arrived, what would he care what place you came in?

“I’m not coddling anybody,” Gavin replies indifferently. “Are you gonna ready up for the next race or what?”

Minor looks like he wants to say something else - you know the way he scrunches his nose well. Though you can’t see Gavin’s face, he must give Minor a sharp look because he grumbles under his breath and turns back to the game.

The rest of the Prix goes much the same way: Minor takes a strong lead, you try to play catch-up, and Gavin stays one or two positions behind you. Even when you purposefully drive off the course at one point as a test, Gavin always winds up nearby. It’s almost like he’s playing bodyguard, though you can’t figure out why.

As the final results are being announced, you get a call from your father ushering you home. You want to argue because you're actually having fun despite your expectations of Gavin, but the worried tone in your father’s voice makes you reluctantly agree to come home.

Tuning back into Minor and Gavin’s arguing (or rather, Minor’s arguing and Gavin’s apathy), you raise your voice. “Hey, guys, I have to go.”

Argument with Gavin forgotten on a dime, Minor deflates. “Aww, what? Is your dad being a buzzkill again?”

“He’s not a buzzkill!” You retort defensively. “He just worries a lot.”

“Yeah, fine. Want us to walk you home?”

“No, that’s okay. I rode my bike here.” You smile at them, hands clasped politely in front of you. You feel a bit shy all of a sudden. “Thank you both for today. I had a good time.”

For the first time all day, the aloofness slips from Gavin’s face and is replaced with thinly veiled surprise. Then as quick as it showed itself, it vanishes. He looks to the side, ears reddening, and doesn’t respond. 

Your smile dims a little at his apparent dismissal, but you shake it off to look at Minor. “I’ll let you know when I’m home, okay?” To Gavin, you say, “It was really nice meeting you. You're... different than I thought you'd be.” You don't stick around to explain yourself, hurrying out of the arcade.

When you're safely out of sight, Minor rounds on Gavin with a smack to his arm. “Acting like you’ve never met her? Really?”

Gavin’s eyes flash when Minor connects with his arm. “I haven’t ever met her,” he says evenly. 

“Oh, shut up. The girl you ran to the bus stop with in the rain? The one who saw you in the alleyway with Lynn? You know that was MC!” 

“Even if it was,” Gavin says, knowing full well that Minor is right, “she obviously doesn’t remember me, and she doesn’t need to.” Imperceptibly, his posture slouches. “She’s too nice to get roped into my bullshit.”

“First of all, I know she recognizes you at least from the alley because she told me about it. Second, she’s a lot tougher than you think she is.” Minor’s expression softens. “She obviously had fun hanging out today. If you like her, then just talk to her. What’s the worse that could happen?”

As usual, Gavin clams up. He tugs at a lock of hair, which is how Minor knows he’s thinking deeply about something. He could be like that for a while, so Minor pats his back and heads for the Street Fighter machine again.

“Alright, big guy. Come fight your feelings out.”

For a few seconds, Gavin watches Minor walk away with a sour look on his face. Then he sighs, decides begrudgingly that he does still want his company, and follows him.

They don’t talk about you again, even though Minor can tell Gavin’s still thinking about you. He just ribs Gavin’s sub-par skills and talks aimlessly about whatever crosses his mind in an attempt to lighten Gavin's mood.

When they go their separate ways later that evening, Gavin quietly but genuinely expresses his thanks. Minor jokes that he better step up his game before someone else swoops in to steal you away, and Gavin retracts his thanks with a scowl and an attempt to pull Minor into a headlock. 

Still, they make plans to get together again soon; it leaves both of them feeling at ease.


	5. the bandage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fifth time you meet Gavin, you panic.

It is impossible to go to Loveland High and not hear constant rumors about the “legendary fighter” Gavin. 

Gavin knocked out this guy in one punch, Gavin said the F-word to his English teacher, Gavin skipped class today to go smoke instead...you hear all kinds of stories on the daily from Minor especially, who is so proud of his eleventh grade friend.

The latest rumor floating around is about Gavin taking on three guys at once on the track field during second period. No one knows why exactly; the most popular reason seems to be that they were mocking some girl’s glasses. You don't believe it.

“How could anyone take on three guys and not end up hospitalized? It just doesn’t make sense,” you say to Minor, library books clutched to your chest. “And if he  _ can... _ well, that’s a little scary, isn’t it?”

“Scary? No way! He’s like Superman or something.” Minor’s eyes sparkle like stars. “He’s so cool.”

You frown. “It’s not cool. What if they get hurt? What if  _ Gavin  _ gets hurt?”

“Gavin’s a tough guy.” A sly smile spreads across Minor’s face. “Why, are you worried about him?” 

“No,” you answer quickly, but the blush dusting your cheeks says otherwise. “It’s just silly to start a fight over some dumb bullies who don’t even matter.”

Minor jabs you in the side, pulling a surprised giggle out of you. “You want him to fight for you, don’t you?”

“Shut  _ up _ , Minor, I barely even know him!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, then inclines his head towards the library. “Go turn in your books. I gotta pee so I’ll be right back and then we can go to lunch.”

You roll your eyes as he veers off to the right, disappearing down a hallway while you push open the door to the library. It’s chilly in here, the air conditioning always running just a bit harsher in the library than the rest of the school, and you pull your sweater tighter around you.

“Hi, Miss Ruthie,” you greet, coming to a stop at the front counter. You smile at the elderly librarian. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing wonderfully, dear.” She takes your books and opens the cover of the first one to begin typing a number into the computer. “No Minor with you today? Odd to see one of you without the other.”

“Oh, no, he just had to make a pit stop. We’re on our way to lunch after this.” You cell buzzes in your pocket, but you don't answer it.

Miss Ruthie hums in acknowledgment. She sets two books aside to check the third in. “Tell him I said hello, won’t you?”

“Of course. I’ll also tell him to have his book returned by Friday,” you say with a wink, drawing a laugh from the woman. 

“Good girl.” She stands and picks up the stack of novels. “You’re all set. Go enjoy your lunch.”

You say goodbye and turn to leave, checking the message on your phone. Absorbed in responding to a friend’s Moment, you don't realize that the library door is already open until your hand touches fabric. Confusion drawing your brows together, you glance up from the gray t-shirt and right into blazing amber eyes. 

Snatching your hand back like it’s caught on fire, you stare wide-eyed at Gavin like a deer caught in headlights. In the span of a few seconds, you've made note of the fresh blood on his knuckles as he gingerly pokes at a cut on the corner of his mouth. Your heart constricts painfully in your chest.

Gavin doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even seem surprised to see you, expression that same mask of icy indifference it always is whenever you're around. He just stands there, one hand holding open the door, waiting for you to react first.

You clear your throat hastily. “H-hi, Gavin. Um, I’m really sorry about that, I wasn’t paying any attention,” you babble, slipping between him and the door frame to escape. “I have to go, Minor’s waiting for me, but I- I’m sorry again about, y’know,  _ that _ . Bye!” And off you go, skirting around the nearest corner, afraid your heart is going to leap clear out of your chest.

When you summon the courage to peek around the corner a minute later, you see only Minor with his face pressed against the glass, hands cupped around his eyes, presumably searching for you in the library.

“Minor!” You gesture quickly for him to come over.

“Are you hiding?”

You shush him, looking at him with pleading eyes and flushed cheeks. “I just ran into Gavin.”

“...So?”

“Like, almost literally.” Fingers slip behind your glasses to cover your face. “I had my hand on his chest and everything.”

Minor snorts, clapping a hand over his mouth to tamper down his laughter before he’s able to reply. “Damn, I didn’t know you could be so forward.”

“Oh, you are so--!” You huff in annoyance, then abandon the thought. “Whatever, will you just do something for me?”

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Minor says, “I will  _ absolutely _ go tell Gavin you’ve got the hots for him.”

You seize him by the arm with an iron grip someone of your fragile nature should not possess. “Be serious!”

“I am totally serious.”

“ _ Minor _ ,” you grind out, trying very hard to sound threatening and not like a petulant child. “Listen to me.” You dig into the cross-body bag on your side with your free hand, coming up with a pale pink bandage and pressing it into Minor’s hand. “He’s hurt. Will you give this to him?”

Eyebrows raised, Minor cocks his head at you. “Really?”

“It’s not much, but it’s all I have.” The falter in your voice is a stark contrast to the resolute expression on your face. “I told you he was going to get hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah. You did.” He can tell you're worried, so he doesn’t argue. “Will you let go of me now?”

You do release him, busying your hands by wringing them together instead. “Hurry up. We need to get to lunch before we get in trouble.”

Minor gives you a mock salute, accepting his mission with a wide smile, and sets off for the library.

It doesn’t take him long to track down Gavin, brooding alone in a corner and shooting sour looks towards anyone who looks in his direction. None of that bothers Minor, though; he plops into the seat across from Gavin.

“Gavin, bro,” he says brightly, sliding the bandage across the table. “You look like shit. Take this!”

Gavin, tugging at his bangs thoughtfully, doesn’t even spare Minor a glance.

Minor rolls his eyes. You two are going to be the death of him, he thinks. “It’s from  _ her _ .”

That gets Gavin’s attention. He perks up the tiniest bit, eyes sliding back into focus on the bandage. It’s got a picture of a white cat wearing a bow on it, little hearts and polka dots patterning the background. He palms it, tracing a thumb along the design. An uncharacteristic softness fills his eyes.

Almost imperceptibly, he says, “Thanks.”

Minor’s smile returns. “Sure. Hey, was it really three guys?”

Gavin hits him with a deadpan look.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.” Minor stands, putting his hands on his hips in a scolding fashion. “Maybe don’t make her worry so much, okay?”

If Minor didn’t know any better, he’d accuse Gavin of pouting. 


	6. the rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sixth time you meet Gavin, he saves you.

“Do you think I could convince Coach Nick I’m too sick to participate today?”

“You and I both know you can’t lie.”

You ponder that for a moment, readjusting your headband. “What if you lied for me?”

“Now, that I could do,” Minor replies. “I won’t, but I _could_.” At your pout, he laughs a little. “It’s just a few laps, don’t worry about it! It’s not even really for a grade. This substitute is just too lazy to follow the schedule.”

You cross your arms, not out of anger but out of unease. “I don’t know, Minor, I really don’t feel good today.”

“C’mooonnn,” he says as he drapes an arm across your shoulders, leaning in like he’s got a secret to tell you. “The seniors are out on their free period right now. Maybe we’ll get to see Gavin.” He grins devilishly.

Your eyes go wide. The thought alone makes you turn red in the face, embarrassed over something that might not even happen. Defeated, you whine, “Now I really am gonna be sick.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Minor begins, interrupted by the substitute blowing his whistle to rally the students. “Too late now anyway. Let’s go!” 

The weather outside, luckily, is gorgeous: cotton candy clouds dot the skies enough to occasionally block the sun, and the slight but consistent breeze helps to keep cool. The majority of the class take off towards the track, grateful for the mostly free reign they’ve been given to get out some energy before lunch. 

You, on the other hand, lag as far behind as possible, even when Minor tries to gently tug you along in a bid to catch up with your friends. “Stop _pulling_ ,” you snap, shaking him off of you with a frown. “I told you, I don’t want to run today. I don’t feel good.”

Like water off a duck’s back, your irritation doesn’t faze him. Instead he stops walking to look at you curiously. “Really? I thought you were just being silly. What’s wrong?” 

Again, they’re cut off by the sound of a shrill whistle. “Hey, you two! On the field, move it!” 

Minor looks like he wants to back talk the coach, a snarky rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, but you stop him. “It’s fine. Go on ahead, I’ll catch up with you guys.”

Concerned but unwilling to argue with you further, he says, “Sure, but shout if you need me. Okay?” He waits for you to nod before running off.

As Minor had mentioned, several groups of seniors are indeed lounging on the bleachers surrounding the track field. You scan the crowd as you begin to jog - the groups vary in size, from two or three friends goofing around to groups double that working busily on homework and passing papers back and forth. There are a few stragglers sitting by themselves, basking in the sun or on the phone or otherwise doing their own thing. 

With relief, you conclude that Gavin isn’t among them. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so worried, knowing how much of a loner he tends to be, but the thought of him seeing you like _this_ troubles you. You don't have a cute outfit like the majority of the girls in your class, just an oversized, faded yellow t-shirt knotted at the waist over black athletic shorts. Plus, despite the breeze cooling your cheeks, you know you're going to start sweating, and you can’t even _begin_ to get into how weak your lungs are-

A wave of dizziness washes over you suddenly, bringing you to a stumbling halt a quarter through your second lap. You grip the chain-link fence separating the track from the bleachers for support. It’s not until your breathing steadies that you're able to shake away the lightheadedness. A passing classmate asks if you're okay and you wave them off politely, continuing your jog a few seconds later. The sun feels much too hot now, as if you've suddenly become acutely aware of its presence, and there’s a dull pain in the back of your head that hurts worse with every step.

Only about three minutes pass before you notice your vision acting funny, and you blink rapidly to dispel the black spots forming. You wobble on your feet for another step before falling to your knees, too weak to stand. Around you, alarmed voices and approaching footsteps become muffled. 

And then everything goes dark.

A handful of classmates encircle you, chattering anxiously about what to do as someone runs for the teacher. Minor pushes past two of the students to kneel by your side. Like he’s had to do this before, he rolls you onto your back before tugging the collar of your shirt down low enough to where it’s not tight around your throat. Then he presses two fingers just under your jaw and pauses.

After a moment, he looks up. He’s gone pale, faint panic in his eyes, but he stays calm. “Has anyone gotten Coach? Her pulse is too fast, she needs to go to the nurse but I can’t lift her by myself.”

“Jeremy’s talking to him now, but he’s on the other side of the field,” replies a girl with red hair and a face full of freckles. 

“I’ll take her.” 

The juniors startle at the new, unfamiliar voice, and quickly shuffle away upon seeing the newcomer appear seemingly out of thin air. Where they react in fear, Minor reacts in exasperation to hide his relief. “Of course you’d show up. Do you have some kind of radar for her or something?”

Gavin doesn’t respond to that, his mouth pressed in a firm line. “Is she okay to move? Should we wait until she wakes up?”

“No, she needs to go now.” Minor scowls, though not at anyone in particular. “I think her blood sugar got too low again, she probably didn’t eat this morning. I knew she was acting weird, I should’ve-”

Gavin’s already lifting you, with more gentleness than any of them would’ve ever dreamed he possessed, before Minor’s done talking. Masking his own concern so as to not worry Minor any further, he says, “It’s okay. The nurse will take care of her.” 

Finally, the coach approaches them, addressing Gavin with a wary look. “What’s going on here?”

“MC passed out. We’re taking her to the nurse.”

He looks at Minor with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re in class.”

Bewilderment turning quickly into anger, Minor retorts, “Screw class, that’s my best friend!”

“You can go to the principal if-”

“Minor,” Gavin’s voice cuts in, steady even as he stares daggers at the coach. “Don’t worry. I’ll come back and let you know what the nurse says.” He turns his gaze to his underclassman with a softened expression. “She wouldn’t want you in trouble, right?”

Minor doesn’t have an argument for that. Crossing his arms, he grumbles, “Yeah. Whatever, just go.” And then, realizing his annoyance isn’t at Gavin, he adds, “Thank you for taking her.”

Gavin makes a dismissive noise of acknowledgement, gives the coach one more intimidating glance, and heads off the track.

Minutes later, as he's crossing the threshold into the air-conditioned building, You exhale softly as you come to. Your eyes flutter open, then you immediately recoil at the fluorescent lights attacking your vision. You squint, the world blurry and completely unfocused, and are only able to make out a pair of warm amber eyes before you have to close yours again because they're watering too much to see. 

“Don’t worry,” Gavin says quietly, unsure if you're able to hear him. His tone is determined and, he hopes, reassuring. “I’ve got you. You’ll be okay.”

And though you can’t quite process who this voice belongs to thanks to the way your head is swimming, warmth fills your chest and settles your nerves. The last thing you remember before the blackness takes you again is feeling so, so safe.

\----

When you wake some time later, you're greeted by white ceiling tiles and the unmistakable smell of disinfectant. You groan, raising yourself to a sitting position and rubbing your eyes. 

“Ah, there she is,” comes the voice of Nurse Emily, someone you are (unfortunately) very familiar with due to your frequent trips to the school’s infirmary. “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” you answer with a slight whine. Your stomach twists uncomfortably and your entire body feels barely strong enough to remain upright. 

“Fainting due to low blood sugar will do that to you,” the nurse says with a knowing look - not quite stern, but not totally forgiving either. You've certainly had this conversation before. You look away, ashamed, and your gaze lands on a grocery bag with your name written sloppily on the side.

Thankful for a change of subject, you ask, “What’s that?”

Nurse Emily hands you the bag. “The boy who brought you in, he came back with that. According to him, Minor said you skipped breakfast this morning. I guess he wanted to be sure you had something to eat since you’ve now also missed your lunch period.”

Confused, you set the bag, unopened, in your lap. “The boy who brought me in? What was his name?” A memory of bright eyes soft with worry flashes through your head, but you still can’t grasp it firmly enough to know for sure who it was.

The nurse shrugs. “He didn’t say. Tall, brown hair, polite.” 

You've opened the bag now, stomach rumbling at the small loaf of bread inside. There’s also a glass bottle of milk that’s still cold to the touch, so he must have dropped it off not long ago. At the nurse’s description, you feel your face get hot. You have a suspicion, but if it’s true…

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you say, “I see. Thank you. When can I get back to class?”

“After you eat. Don’t let that boy’s kind deed go to waste, yeah?”

You bow your head, another wave of embarrassment overtaking you, and do as you're told.

When you join Minor in your fifth period class, the first thing he does is pass you a note that says: _Real nice of Gavin to bridal-carry you to the nurse, huh?_

You flush cherry-red, your savior’s identity revealed, and pointedly ignore Minor’s teasing for the rest of the day.

(Still, when you give him a note folded carefully into a small square with Gavin's name written on it, he delivers your letter with all the seriousness he can muster.)


End file.
